


Shatter

by Merit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: Yuri was meant to win gold.





	Shatter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lileura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lileura/gifts).



On the ice, next to two faces that blurred in the bright lights, the screaming, the endless waving of flags, Yuri’s smile froze on his face. He kept the smile on as the gold medal winner skated around the rink, smiling gaily up at crowd, collecting flowers from the rink and _why wasn’t that him_.

He skated off the rink with the smile on his face, Yakov and Lilia unsmiling at the side of the rink. He nodded at a few fans as he put on his skate guards, the fans screaming that it was a travesty, the whole thing had been rigged. Yakov’s hand was heavy on his back, the touch meant to be comforting but Yuri almost shattered.

Lilia inclined her head slightly, the only concession he would get from her regarding his loss. She murmured something to Yakov, over his head, the crowd roaring in his ears, Yakov frowning.

Then they flanked him, ignoring the flashing lights, the screaming, the cameras and microphones thrust in his face. He felt, rather than saw, Victor move behind him. His jacket placed on his shoulders, the sting of the ice starting to leave his bones, Victor’s fingers tracing a pattern on his hips, his hands hidden by Victor’s great coat.

Yakov and Lilia melted away as he entered the change rooms. The smile wavered on his face. Victor followed him, ignoring the look that Yakov gave him. Or maybe he didn’t even notice it, Yuri could never tell with Victor. There were a couple others there, people who hadn’t medalled, and their eyes skirted over him, over the silver medal on his neck. Yuri collapsed on a bench. The smile finally falling from his face.

He sat in his costume, sweat turning icy on his skin, his team jacket resting his shoulders like a shroud. Victor stood, making genial conversation with some of the other skaters, something in English, something that Yuri didn’t have the mental willpower to translate. He let his head fall between his knees, not caring that anyone could be taking a picture of this, could be uploading it to Snapchat, Instagram.

When Victor settled next to him, wool clad thigh pressing against the thin fabric of his costume, Yuri started. His hair had fallen out of his braids, messy, undignified. He hurriedly ran a hand through it, tearing pulling, his nerves firing up at the pain.

“Stop,” Victor said, velvet soft, hand on his knee, broad fingers spreading across his leg. Yuri paused, fingers half caught in his blond hair, he swallowed, sharp tears forming at the edges of his eyes. There was no one in the changing room. He couldn’t even hear the crowd roaring, no music was playing which meant -

“They’ve all left,” he said, looking up at the fluorescent light, the changing room still smelling like fresh paint and sawdust, despite the layers of skater sweat and sodden socks. He screwed his eyes shut. “I missed the photocalls and the interviews. Yakov is going to kill me,” Yuri said, shoulders shaking, shrinking in on himself. “Oh no, _fuck_. The Federation is going to ream me.”

“I’ve taken care of that,” Victor said, casually, inspecting his trousers for lint and finding none. He looked up, through silver hair, his smile golden, without a care in the world.

“You have?” Yuri said, carefully, because Victor didn’t just _do_ things like that.

“Yakov was easy,” Victor said easily, shrugging, because Victor had charmed Yakov years ago, when Yuri was still in diapers. “And the Federation owes me favors,” he said, smile razor sharp. “You’ll do some friendly interviews tomorrow. Talk up about your sudden muscle strain or migraine, I can’t remember which,” he said, waving his hand around carelessly.

It wasn’t careless.

“A favor,” Yuri said flatly.

“The world is made up of favors,” Victor said, blue eyes like chips of ice. “When I promised to train you, you said you would win gold.”

The words hit Yuri like a blow to the chest. He wheezed, leaning back. The hand on his knee tightened, keeping him in place.

“I _tried_. I tried my best,” he said, guilt and self loathing choking the words.

“Yes,” Victor said, knees spreading, knocking at Yuri’s. Yuri stilled. Victor had taught him that - oh he’d forgotten when. Before he’d decided to train Yuri in the lead up to the Olympics, before -

He slid to his knees, ignoring the hard tile on his knees. He deserved this, he thought, pressing his forehead against Victor’s thigh, nuzzling at the wool there, mouthing the fabric.

Victor unzipped his trousers, his dick already half hard as it popped out. Yuri rubbed his cheek against it, teasing the skin at the base with his tongue, kitten licks. When he wrapped his mouth around the tip, Victor was already wet, pre-come sliding down the long vein on his dick.

“Deeper,” Victor said, gently threading his fingers through Yuri’s golden hair. When he pulled, tears formed at the corners of Yuri’s eyes, then pushed Yuri further down his dick.

Between his legs, his dick stirred in his costume, constrained by his dance belt. It was almost uncomfortable and Yuri dived deeper into the sensation, thrusting his hips into thin air. He kept his hands at his sides because Victor hadn’t said he could touch himself.

Then Victor strengthened his hold on Yuri’s hair, hips moving in short, powerful motions as he fucked Yuri’s mouth. Everything had been taken out of Yuri’s control, and he relaxed, eyes shut, mouth open, letting Victor do whatever he wanted to him.

Victor sighed when he came, knees drawing higher, his face shifting. When he opened his eyes again, his lips fell into a smile. He leaned down, cupping Yuri’s chin, wiping away the come that had escaped Yuri’s mouth.

“It was a tragedy you lost,” Victor said, stroking his fingers through Yuri’s hair. “I don’t waste my time with talentless skaters,” the fingers tightened. Yuri’s eyelashes fluttered, his dick aching between his thighs. He hadn’t touched himself.

Yuri shrugged his shoulders.

“A mistake,” Victor said heavily, warring with the jarringly light smile on his face. “But you were so good, Yuri,” he said, tilting his chin up, thumb rubbing over his lower lip, spreading him open. “And I have many favors left,” he said.

When Victor let go of him, he felt untethered and he shook on his knees.  
“You need to shower,” Victor said, standing, tucking his dick back into his trousers. When he stood up, he looked pristine. Like he hadn’t just fucked Yuri’s mouth. “Tomorrow you will have a few friendly interviews. The ones set up by the Federation,” Victor waved his hand, dismissively. “And then some of my choices. They think they can take a gold from my protege?”

Victor smiled.

“Not without a fight,” he said.


End file.
